What If?
by trust-me-im-a-shadowhunter
Summary: When Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy went back to Hogwarts for their seventh year, they slowly but surely get over their differences and fall in love. But what happens when Hermione starts longing for the familiarity of a certain redhead?
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Looking at him in the smoke-filled station, standing with his wife and son, it all came pouring back to her. Laughingly, Ron warned little Rose off of _his_ son, and Hermione had to respond. Even though she and Draco hasn't chosen each other when the time came, Rosie should have the free will to decide whether or not she wanted the Malfoy's son - Scorpius, she thought he was called. Hermione swallowed, and she willed herself to forget those times in her seventh year, the discussions in Potions, that led to talks in the library, that eventually led to stolen kisses in the corridor. She hugged her small, redheaded daughter, kissed her quickly, and watched her board the train. Rose, Albus and James waved merrily from the window, and she stood side by side with Ron and Harry.

As her husband of 15 years wrapped his arm around her waist, Hermione saw _him_ leaving the station, head down, an arm draped over his wife's shoulders. She turned resolutely back to the red steamer pulling out the station, and so didn't see Draco turning back to look at her, a strange expression in his silvery grey eyes as he saw the brunette for the first time in eighteen years.

The moment passed, and he walked off the platform, Astoria by his side.


	2. Chapter 1

**Eighteen years earlier...**

* * *

Hermione Granger, as always, was the first person to get to class. She was back in the dark, dingy dungeons where Potions was taught, and she had honestly never thought she'd be back here, in the belly of the school, ever again. Potions had never been one of her especial interests, but this year she had finally decided, after all the business of the previous one, to go after a position in the Ministry. Obviously this required Defence Against the Dark Arts, and her other qualifications included Arithmacy and taking another look at Ancient Runes. But she had needed one final subject, and knowing that Snape would no longer be there to torment her and the other Gryffindors, Hermione had decided upon Potions.

So there she was, leaning against the slightly damp wall, flicking through 'Hogwarts: A History' for about the tenth time, when she heard somebody walking up the corridor. She flicked her eyes up for long enough to identify that it was a boy with blond hair before going back to her book. She heard him take a deep breath, before speaking.

"Hello, Granger."

Hermione jumped about a foot in the air, dropping book, bookmark and bag on the floor, before locking eyes with the one person she had hoped never to see again - Draco Malfoy. After a second, her voice recovered from the surprise.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" He swallowed nervously, twisting his hands together, his eyes facing the floor.

"I'm coming back for a seventh year, Granger, like you."

"I can see that. I meant, _why_ are you here - _specifically_ here. Nobody's seen you since the Battle." She didn't have to say which battle. They both knew it was the only one they would ever regard as a battle. It was true what she'd said - ever since the entire school had publicly seen his parents as Death Eaters, no one had seen hide or hair of Draco either in school or over the summer.

"I wanted to come back, get my qualifications myself, not like Potter or your Weasel - ready to just waltz off into the Auror sunset with no NEWTs." He smirked at her, and despite herself Hermione felt the urge to defend her friends.

"He is not a weasel, Malfoy, unless you'd rather be referred to as a ferret," she spat out. His pale cheeks blushes pink, and she knew he still remembered the time in their fourth year when Professor Moody had Transfigured him into the said small white animal.

They stood there, squaring up to each other, Draco opening his mouth to say something insulting - probably about her blood status, knowing him - when they heard the other seventh years pouring down the stairs. Instantly Draco stalked moodily over to the far end of the corridor, while Hermione bent down and scooped up her books and bag. Ginny came flying down, her red hair streaming out like a banner, completely ignoring the pale Slytherin, instead engaging Hermione in their interrupted conversation from breakfast about whether fried or poached eggs were better breakfast foods.

Despite herself, Hermione shivered slightly. She hadn't spoken to Draco or heard him speak since the awful night at Malfoy Manor where she was tortured. Unconsciously, she rubbed the scars on her left arm hidden by her shirt. Just then Professor Slughorn toddled down the steps, and they all filed into the classroom, both Hermione and Draco filled with unwanted memories from before.

**A/N: Yes, I ship Dramione. Simultaneously I ship Romione as well. It's kinda confusing, but it'll all work out in the end, don't worry. Or maybe not. I'm not sure yet.**

**Reviews make me happy! :)**


	3. Chapter 2

Curled over the study desk in her room, Hermione was waiting for the new Head Boy to arrive in their shared dormitory. When she had received the letter in the summer holidays, just after she had restored her parent's memories, she had been extremely pleased with herself. Head Girl! She might have thought she was in with a chance when she was in her _own _seventh year, but Hermione would've thought one of the other girls would've gotten it this time - Ginny or Luna were the two that sprang to mind. The badge hadn't arrived with the letter, unfortunately; during the dark times at Hogwarts most of the badges had been bewitched to only display Slytherin colours, and Professor McGonagall had only just gotten them to show the school crest again. Hermione couldn't help wondering who the other boy was, going through the mental list of seventh years in her head who had looked particularly pleased with themselves on the first day back.

Suddenly, she heard the door to the common room open, and eagerly she sprang through her bedroom door, to see -

Draco Malfoy.

The two of them stood stiller than the Hogwarts statues, frozen at either end of the room, Hermione bathed in the light of the fire, Draco's pale complexion further whitened by the moonlight pouring in through the large windows.

"You're Head Boy, then," was the first thing she said after a long moment.

"Congratulations," he said quickly, the syllables tripping over themselves. "I was hoping it would be someone in my year - well, I suppose all the seventeen-year-olds are in our year, but - _you_ know." He started twiddling his fingers again.

"Yes, I do." And surprisingly, Hermione _did_ know what he meant. Even though he was - or maybe, _had been_ - one of her worst enemies, Hermione couldn't help but be glad that she had someone who had been in the same year as her to finish off their school career. "Coming in?"

He swallowed, nodded quickly, and shut the portrait behind him. They sank into chairs on opposite sides of the fire, neither willing to relax fully. The fire itself, oblivious to the tension in the room, made as much noise as it could, crackling and sputtering until eventually a log came rolling down, burning up suddenly in an inferno of red sparks. Hermione brought out her wand from the waistband of her skirt and started polishing it just to give her hands something to do.

After nearly half an hour of complete silence, Draco cleared his throat suddenly.

"Granger, before we go any further, I'd just like to say-"

But Hermione didn't hear the rest of his sentence. A previously unnoticed clock made a _completely_ unreasonable amount of noise informing them that it was midnight. Before it was done, Hermione jumped up and half-ran to her bedroom.

"Goodnight, Malfoy!"

The door slammed shut, impossible to open without the password.

Draco slowly got up, and walked towards his own bedroom door.

"Goodnight, Granger."

The door shut quietly.

* * *

The next morning, Hermione emerged from her bedroom fully dressed, hair completely disarranged and still half-asleep. It wasn't like her to have stayed up so long, but she couldn't help wondering what Draco was going to say last night, and why on earth she had felt the need to run as soon as the clock had chimed. Most likely, she thought, it was simply because she had realised how tired she was and had wanted to go to bed immediately. Yes - that was it - had to be. She still wondered what Draco had wanted to say to her, but she shrugged it off. If he was anything like Ron, she wouldn't hear about this for another three months.

"Granger!" She turned to see Draco, shirt not quite buttoned up, tie only loosely on and missing his shoes. His hair was as dishevelled as hers, and he looked about as tired.

"What is it, Malfoy?" She couldn't deny that Draco Malfoy, stuck-up Slytherin Prince that he was, looked quite sweet first thing in the morning with messy hair and ruffled clothes. She could only guess how horrific she looked.

"I just - before we go any further, I'd like to say sorry. Officially." The bewildered look on Hermione's face was taken rightly by Draco to be encouragement. "I'm sorry that I just - that I just stood by in the Manor when my aunt was - well -" he gestured awkwardly to her arm - "hurting you. I know this is nowhere near good enough, and I know you hate me - you've good reason to - but, well...I'm sorry." He flushed pink again - for the second time in two days - and rushed back into his bedroom.

"I don't hate you," Hermione told the empty room. Just then, her stomach rumbled unbelievably loudly. _Breakfast time,_ she thought, and Hermione jogged down to the Great Hall.


	4. Chapter 3

It had been three weeks since Draco had officially apologised, as he said, and despite this relations between the two ex-enemies were tense. Hermione, try as she might, still couldn't see Draco as anything other than the proud, stuck-up bully he'd been for the last six years, and Draco, seeing that she still disliked him, ignored her with a haughty sweep of his robes whenever they met in the corridors. This made things in the common room a little awkward, truth be told, but Hermione felt she could live with their current state of affairs.

That changed when Halloween came around.

* * *

As usual, the Hogwarts pupils feasted away, and Hermione once again admired the decorations around the place, as enchanted bats flew around the ceiling and pumpkins as big as the cauldrons in Potions became jack-o-lanterns. Most of the food had pumpkin of some sort in it, and the bewitched ceiling showed a clear, still night.

Eventually, everybody was full, and the prefects, Hermione and Draco started herding everyone to their rooms. "Gryffindors follow me! Gryffindors over to the tower!" "Ravenclaw over here - Ravenclaw pupils, nobody get left behind!" "Alright, everyone here? Good. Come on, Hufflepuffs!" "Slytherins to the dungeons - Slytherins, to the DUNGEON." House by house, the Great Hall emptied, and Hermione and Draco were left alone together.

"Who's turn is it to patrol tonight?" Hermione asked, speaking quietly. She stood face on, looking into Draco's grey eyes, and he met her gaze.

"I think it's mine," he replied as softly. "See you tomorrow?"

"See you tomorrow, Malfoy." Hermione sharply turned away, and made her way towards their dorm on the seventh floor. Draco watched the brunette witch walk away, and almost imperceptibly sighed. He brushed his blonde hair out his eyes, and marched down to the dungeon to start his patrols.

Why, he pondered as he descended the stairs, was he so obsessed with Hermione Granger all of a sudden? It wasn't like they'd been friends before; Draco remembered well how he had spat the filthy insult Mudblood at her and how she had punched him in the face when they were in third year. He didn't find her all that pretty - he wasn't blind, he could see what the Weasel saw in her - she just didn't seem his type. And although he knew well that she was the brightest witch of their age, and was more than capable of holding an interesting conversation, despite his apology the most they said to each other was hello in the morning and goodnight before patrols. Why was he so invested in getting her to talk to him?

He was getting to the dark parts of the dungeon now; Draco pulled out his wand and muttered "Lumos," under his breath.

Was it simply because of his guilty conscience? He hadn't been in the room while his aunt had been torturing Hermione, but he had still heard her screams. He didn't think he could forget those agonising 30 minutes as long as he lived. The way his aunt had stripped Hermione of her wand, and bustled him out the room. The first, absolutely blood-curdling scream, refusing to die down for an eon, and the second, less a human scream than an animal cry of pain. After a while it was a soft, high-pitched whimper only interrupted by the occasional sob. He shuddered just thinking of it. Then Potter and his friends had rescued Hermione and they had escaped. The next time they'd seen each other was at the Battle.

Yes, Draco decided, it must be some underlying feeling of guilt that was forcing him to want to talk to her. Not an _undeserved_ feeling of guilt - he had done some truly terrible things to her, after all - but not one he wanted to live with. _Mystery solved, _he thought, and merrily continued the patrol.

Bellatrix loomed over her, her mad, dark eyes consumed with hate and bloodlust. With a distant yet malicious smile, she lifted her wand almost daintily, and ran it in small circles around Hermione's body. The fear, which she hadn't allowed herself to feel before, rose up in a choking wave, her breath hitching, her right hand trembling.

"CRUCIO!"

And then a jet of light burst out of Bellatrix's wand and oh god oh god oh god the pain shot right into her body, a thousand knives slicing her flesh and battering bruises blooming under her skin and red-hot pokers driving into her eyes-

And relief, sweet relief, she had stopped. Her throat was hoarse and sweat was sticking to the small of her back and she was crying, Hermione Granger was crying from the pain, and she thanked the God she had never believed in that she had thought to Obliviate her parents, and then-

"Crucio."

A murmur this time, but the pain was still unending and merciless and fuckfuckfuck-

And as she gasped for breath, openly crying now, not caring about her pride, her worthless Gryffindor pride, Hermione saw Bellatrix grabbing a silver dagger with an engraved ivory handle, and stretching out Hermione's left arm, and then the blackness of her crazed eyes became a part of the torture, and the knife hammered down into her skin-

"HERMIONE!"

With a scream she was pulled out her nightmare, the stifling sheets tangled around her body, sweating heavily with tears covering her face, and she saw in the half-darkness blond hair and Slytherin eyes, and she didn't care, she didn't care, as she was pulled into Draco's cool arms and she sobbed messily into his shoulder. Soothingly he ran his hands up and down her back, rubbing in small circles, as she wrapped her arms ever tighter around his neck, pulling a handful of his shirt into her fist. "It's okay," he whispered, "it's okay, Bellatrix isn't here, she's dead, you're nowhere near her, you're fine, you're safe, it's okay, it's okay..."

After a while Hermione pulled him down beside her to the mattress. He held her close, burying his head in her bushy hair, and eventually the two of them fell asleep in each others arms.

**A/N: I'm going on holiday for two weeks starting Saturday, so don't worry if I don't update as much! :)**


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